Probies & Friends
by RipleysSister
Summary: Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs deals with a probie named Anthony DiNozzo before learning disturbing news about his longtime friend, Jack O'Neill. Story takes place before the 2003 NCIS series premiere and during & after the Stargate SG-1 season 6 episode "Smoke & Mirrors." Jethro/Jack friendship story.
1. Chapter 1

**Several people, through reviews and private messages, told me they would like to see Jack in this story. It was a good idea so I have added him, alive and in-person, into this story which is now two chapters. I appreciate very much all the comments and suggestions from everyone and I hope you like what I did with this.**

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__NCIS_ / _Stargate SG-1_ crossover story. Written for fun, not profit. _NCIS_ and _Stargate SG-1_ belong to somebody else. I borrowed... only borrowed.

Rated T just to be safe. Nothing graphic, minor profanity, no sexual situations, no pairing.

Time Frame - Occurs several months before the first episode of _NCIS_ and during and after the season 6 episode of _Stargate SG-1_. (Sorry, naming the _Stargate SG-1_ episode will spoil any surprise, if you want to be surprised. If you want to know the name of the episode before you read this story, scroll down to the bottom and it's in a note after the end of the story. Also the time line is sort of explained.)

Gibbs and O'Neill are friends from way back in my world.

Title: Probies and Friends

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Supervisory Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs finished leafing though the case folder and placed it on the desktop with his hand on top of it. His gaze passed over the empty desks around him, finally settling on one that should have been occupied. A member of his team, Anthony DiNozzo, was supposed to be making some phone calls and gathering information about their latest case, but the man had apparently found other things to do. The elevator dinged announcing the arriving car, and Gibbs watched as two passengers exited, both of them bundled up for cold winter weather.

He'd experienced the frigid January temperature earlier that morning when he'd been called to the apartment of a dead Marine, so he understood why they were decked out in heavy coats, gloves and hats. Even with hats covering their heads and ears, he recognized the men and remembering that his probie was still AWOL he stood up, his eyes scanning the room over the tops of the cubicle walls as the two employees made their way to the back of the room. Where the heck was DiNozzo?

His hearing picked up muffled conversations from the entire area but he zeroed in on one familiar voice. His errant probie was on the other side of the stairs talking to a woman, and Gibbs knew it had nothing to do with work. Slipping to the front of the staircase, he waited only a second before purposely rounding the corner and stopping cold, confirming that the two people were engaged in an intimate conversation. It took only a second for DiNozzo to realize he was being watched, but the administrative assistant kept on talking. In only a couple of seconds she noticed something was different because before finishing her sentence, she suddenly turned around.

Like a kid caught with her hand in a cookie jar, the woman's eyes went wide open in surprise and when she finally spoke, her voice squeaked. "Special Agent Gibbs." Her frightened eyes stared into his ice cold blue ones and she instantly caved, stammering, "Tony... Tony and... I... um, we... please excuse me, there's somewhere I need to be."

She scurried away without looking at DiNozzo, who was sheepishly looking at Gibbs. Jethro didn't divert his gaze as DiNozzo quipped, "Hey boss, I was just on my way to see you."

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo had served with three different police departments for a total of about eight years before his time at NCIS and Gibbs held out hope that the younger man would start acting a little more mature. And he wished it would happen faster. DiNozzo had skills and was capable enough, but he was obsessed with females, flirting shamelessly with every woman he met, and he talked constantly about his dates and dating practices. He was also preoccupied with movies, college life and how much he spent on his clothes, among other things. He was easily distracted, to the point that Gibbs sometimes wondered if he had ADD, and he had an almost pathological need for approval and a desire to please that could drive almost everyone wacko.

Gibbs knew some of it had to do with his mother dying when Tony was 9 and his father neglecting him. After her death, they spent almost no time together and communicated little, if at all. Being an only child held its own set of character traits and Gibbs was constantly reigning Tony in from his chauvinistic ways and juvenile sense of humor. For a younger agent, he held real promise that someday he'd be good, but Gibbs still had to figure out what to do with a guy who needed weekly classes in Respecting your coworkers and your coworkers' personal space, When you're guilty of sexual harassment, Working with people you don't like, and Effective time management.

With narrowed eyes, Gibbs looked directly at the younger man, making him increasingly more uncomfortable. It was a technique Gibbs used when interrogating suspects and it worked equally well on wayward probies. Tony felt the scrutiny and fidgeted a little more before admitting, "Sorry boss, got a little sidetracked." He must have seen something in the senior agent's eyes because he immediately announced, "I'll go make those calls now... right now," and like the woman he'd been talking to, he dashed away toward the bullpen.

Gibbs waited until the man was seated at his desk before heading over to his own and the phone rang before he could sit down. After the short call he told DiNozzo, "Going upstairs."

With telephone receiver in hand, DiNozzo quickly piped up with, "Got it, boss. I'll keep making calls," as Gibbs took the stairs two at a time.

* * *

Gibbs heard NCIS Director Thomas Morrow say enter and he pushed open the door to his boss's office. Morrow was sitting behind the big desk with a serious look on his face which Gibbs couldn't help noticing, along with a small stack of personnel folders. Being pressured to select probationary agents to fill the open slots on his team was not something Gibbs reacted well to, and he mentally prepared himself for an argument with the director. What came instead was totally unexpected.

"When did you last see Colonel Jack O'Neill?" Blunt and to the point.

At first Gibbs thought he'd misheard, but the look on the man's face told him otherwise. Jack O'Neill was a name he hadn't heard very often. As for seeing him, if he remembered correctly, it was at Mansfield's memorial service. All those years of hazardous duty, surviving countless deadly missions, and the man bought it in a training exercise – if it had been a training exercise. Some things never made sense.

Gibbs fixed his gaze on the director's face, trying to read whatever he could. Itching to ask why the man wanted to know about Jack, Gibbs instead replied, "Last April, I think."

Morrow's eyes narrowed as he considered the answer, trying to assess whether Gibbs was telling the truth, and his jaw tightened when he realized the man was scrutinizing him just as much.

"Where... and why?"

Gibbs hated mysteries, especially ones like the conversation he was having with Morrow now, but he bit the bullet, determined to get some answers to his own questions before leaving.

"Culpeper National Cemetery." He didn't have to say why, there was only one obvious reason.

Gibbs didn't know that the deceased was on another planet, buried under the rubble of collapsed Tok'ra tunnels. There had been no body to bury or cremate. There was just a plaque adorning the memorial wall for service members KIA, their remains not recovered.

"Who?"

It wasn't anyone's business why he'd been there. Nobody needed to know that he'd served with the Marine father of the dead Air Force major, but he knew the director wouldn't let it go. "Son of a friend." Morrow's facial expression said 'give me more' and previously determined not to tell him anything else, Gibbs revealed the name. "Mansfield."

Morrow dropped his gaze, understanding enough to not have to know more. At least not about Gibbs. As he wrote down the name he asked, "O'Neill was there too?" Gibbs nodded once. Morrow probed further, "How did he know Mansfield?"

"Served with him." Gibbs was more than irritated and it was time for Director Morrow to answer a question or two. "You gonna tell me why all the questions about Jack O'Neill?"

The Director took a breath and said, "Sit down, Jethro."

Gibbs hesitated at first, wondering what the heck was going on. He had just placed his backside in a chair in front of the desk when the phone buzzed. Morrow took the call and Gibbs waited.

As far as Jethro knew, Jack O'Neill was still stationed in Colorado Springs in something called deep space radar telemetry. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that something else was going on, but the program was so secret he could only guess that it was probably related to special forces or black ops. The times he'd seen or talked to Jack, neither of them ever spoke about their work. It was an unwritten, unvoiced rule that unless you brought it up, nobody asked you anything about it.

The few times he'd seen Jack in the last 12 years had mostly been at memorial services and funerals. Jack and Sara had been at the services for Shannon and Kelly. They hadn't been able to stay long, needing to return to Jack's duty station, but it was okay because Gibbs never talked about any of it and rarely shared his feelings. Gibbs had seen them at Charlie's funeral and he had also needed to leave right away. That's the way it was in the military. There had been other services for Charles Kawalsky, Frank Cromwell and other mutual friends. Then there had been the time Jack was in D.C. for a medal ceremony. They thought they'd have time to get together for a drink, but a hit and run accident had changed everything and Jack was suddenly recalled to Colorado Springs. And six or seven months before Mansfield's memorial, Jack had called him out of the blue, saying he had a layover and was bored. Jethro remembered him being somber and distant and briefly complaining about an unnamed moronic senator before the conversation went to boats and ex-wives.

Morrow hung up the phone and looking gravely at Gibbs revealed, "They're looking at O'Neill for the Kinsey shooting."

U.S. Senator Robert Kinsey? Gibbs, like everyone else had heard the news that Senator Robert Kinsey had been shot and killed while greeting well-wishers and supporters before entering his limousine. Could Kinsey have been the moronic senator Jack had been talking about? He dismissed that thought immediately because he knew Jack, and he knew he wouldn't have shot Kinsey. They had to have gotten it wrong.

"FBI wants to talk to you."

They had to have it wrong. Jack O'Neill would not assassinate a U.S. Senator. Jack wouldn't assassinate anyone. His brain stopped and switched gears. Jack wouldn't assassinate Kinsey. As for shooting someone else, he didn't want to go there. Under orders, Jack had shot others, just as he had. But Jack shooting Kinsey was just crazy, wasn't it?

Gibbs remembered the faces from his time as a Marine sniper. And he lived every day with what he'd done in Mexico. After killing drug dealer Pedro Hernandez, he'd not lost a single night of sleep, but he did live with it. Would he do it again? Oh yeah.

"Jethro, did you hear me?"

Gibbs snapped back from the memories and nodded. If the FBI wanted to speak to him then they thought they had their man and they were tying up loose threads relating to service and past deeds. They had to have gotten it wrong.

He asked quietly, "When are they coming?"

"They're not if you talk to me." Morrow's eyes seemed warmer, friendlier, and Gibbs relaxed a little. Morrow picked up on it and continued with the questioning.  
"Have you spoken to him in the last few days?" Gibbs shook his head one time.

"Could he have done it?" The answer to that was a nail in Jack's coffin. The man possessed great skill and could hit everything with anything at great distances.

Jethro wasn't going to lie. There was no reason to lie. Jack didn't do this. "Yeah." Then he quickly added, "Did he do it? No." They had to have gotten it wrong.

The Director asked skeptically, "You know him well enough to say that?"

Gibbs knew Jack O'Neill: Air Force officer, Sara's husband, Charlie's dad, friend and honorable man. He refused to believe that Jack could have gone over to the dark side and killed Kinsey in cold blood. Then his brain flashed to the image of his own bullet striking Pedro's head and he directed his gaze to the floor. Killing a drug dealing cold blooded murderer was different than killing a senator. Jack might have done a double tap, head and heart. Head shot for sure. The person who shot Kinsey wasn't confident because they'd gone for the torso. The easy shot.

His mind flashed to Jack and Sara, now divorced, but back then, they were married and happy. They loved Charlie and were thrilled to be parents. The boy had stayed with grandparents while Jack and Sara attended the double funeral. His memory jumped to Kelly laughing and playing and then Pedro's head exploded. No doubts. Jack would have taken the head shot. And he would not have missed. Pedro's head exploded. Gibbs knew about Jack's demons. Not all of them, but enough. His memory shifted and this time the head exploding was Kinsey's, but the senator had been shot in the chest. In his mind he saw Kelly with Shannon, both were giggling and smiling. Pedro's head exploded again.

Morrow saw that Gibbs was deep in thought, but he needed to finish this or the FBI would come calling. "Jethro, do you know him well enough to say that?"

Jethro raised his head, aware that he'd let himself be distracted by memories... and other things. They had to have gotten it wrong. "Yes." No doubts.

Familiar with Jethro's usually right intuition and his famous gut, the Director seemed satisfied with the answer. "Do you know where he is?"

The director's question made it sound like Jack was on the run. A fugitive from justice. Consciousness of guilt? Where the heck are you, Jack? They had to have gotten it wrong.

Taken aback for just a second, Gibbs replied, "Colorado Springs?"

Morrow shook his head. "He's been on vacation. They're looking for him."

A mantra throbbed in Jethro's head. Jack didn't shoot Kinsey. Jack is not on the run. Jack just took a few days leave. They had to have it wrong. Jack didn't shoot Kinsey. Jack is not on the run. Jack just took a few days leave. They had to have it wrong. Thinking about where else his friend could be, he hesitated before volunteering the information. 'Jack didn't do this. There is no reason to protect him.' Morrow had read him and was inquiring with his eyes.

No doubts. Jack didn't do this. Gibbs revealed what he knew. "He has a cabin in Minnesota." He wasn't happy and hoped they wouldn't shoot first and ask questions later. A U.S. senator was dead so they might shoot first.

"Do you know where?" Morrow wasn't looking at him, but Gibbs knew he would as soon as he finished writing.

No hesitation this time. He didn't know where the cabin was located, but knew it wouldn't be that hard to find out. "Nope." Knowing where it should be and actually finding it were two different things. Jack liked to get away from everything and everyone and Gibbs guessed the cabin wouldn't be visible from any road. It wouldn't be easy to find.

Gibbs saw Morrow's face and knew the man had heard enough. He saw O'Neill rarely, the last time was about nine months ago. They talked infrequently and hadn't spoken in the last few days. Morrow could ask about other people O'Neill might get in touch with, knowing the FBI would ask, but he didn't. Gibbs knew he wasn't going anywhere and Jack would turn up. He had probably found a secluded pond somewhere and had stopped to put a line in the water. There wasn't anywhere on Earth that he could hide that the FBI or CIA or some other agency wouldn't find him, not that Gibbs thought he was hiding. In the meantime, NCIS had other work to do. No doubts. Jack didn't shoot Kinsey. Gibbs knew what was coming and dropped his gaze.

"You know what to do if you hear from him."

Gibbs stared briefly at the floor before rising from the chair. He knew if he heard from him that he'd have to get Jack to turn himself in, and if he wouldn't, Jethro knew he'd have to tell the FBI. Or find a way to help him, but unless his friend was in the DC area, he wasn't in any position to help. Jack didn't do this. They had to have gotten it wrong.

"I do," he assured him, before going to the door and opening it.

"I'm still waiting for you to select another team member or two." Gibbs turned around, happy with the subject change, before he nodded and went out the door. He had every intention of selecting team members, in a few months. For now, he and DiNozzo, with help from Ducky and Abby, were getting the work done. Choosing new agents couldn't be rushed and he refused to be pressured. Hopeful a good choice would just fall into his lap, Gibbs headed for the morgue to see Ducky.

* * *

Ten days later Jethro was watching a rerun of the press conference on the B&W television in his basement. The Kinsey press conference had happened earlier in the day and the way it had all wrapped up was a mystery, and the few known facts were bazaar. The FBI had gotten it all wrong. Or so they had said and it was the talk around the water cooler at NCIS headquarters.

Kinsey had been reported killed, but Gibbs had known he wasn't dead even before the announcement proclaiming him alive. Ducky had checked everywhere and nobody had Kinsey's body. No autopsy had been performed. All physical evidence was out of reach at the FBI Crime Lab. Jack had been held in custody, but nobody could visit him. Gibbs had tried when Jack was brought to D.C. and he'd been told that visitation for Jack was restricted - ordered that way by an organization that Gibbs knew nothing about, and one he couldn't find out anything about. He'd asked an FBI friend about the case, only to be told that it was closed; a slam dunk. They had searched Jack's home in Colorado and his cabin in Minnesota. They had discovered irrefutable physical evidence, including the murder weapon, and had determined means, motive and opportunity. They had a witness that could put Jack at the lake near his cabin, where the murder weapon was found. They had three other people who had witnessed the animosity between Jack and Kinsey. The FBI had declared Jack guilty even before a trial, but Gibbs knew that was pretty common. There was no question that the FBI believed that they had their guy, and Gibbs had struggled for many days with how to help his friend, if he even could.

As suddenly as Jack had been accused, he had been suddenly cleared and declared completely innocent. Kinsey had said that it had all been planned, but Jethro knew that couldn't be true or the FBI wouldn't have wanted information about Jack from him. And he had learned from Morrow that the FBI had been livid because information had been kept from them by executive order. All the evidence that they had collected had been seized, some of it mysteriously disappearing from the crime lab. Gibbs had watched Jack's body language during the press conference and it had been very obvious that his friend hadn't been happy about being there on the dais, hadn't been comfortable with Kinsey, hadn't been pleased with the press, and had probably wished he was almost anywhere else. Gibbs had felt for him because he too hated the spotlight, but he had been relieved when Jack had been cleared of all charges, and was getting public vindication. Gibbs had had to bite his tongue when some people, including DiNozzo, had expressed dismay at Jack being cleared, feeling that it was all a cover-up, and that the man should have at least been charged with attempted murder. After all, Kinsey had been shot and the weapon had been found at O'Neill's cabin.

He'd left the building before shouting at everyone that Jack was completely innocent, knowing that it would not do any good because when people make up their minds, it is usually difficult to get them to change. Gibbs wanted to hear whatever Jack could tell him about what had actually been going on, but he'd wait a few days, let his friend get home and settled. For now, it was enough to know that Jack was okay, and he turned off the television, put away his tools and headed upstairs.

TBC

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NOTE: Time Frame - Occurs several months before the first episode of _NCIS_, and during and after _Stargate SG-1_ season 6 episode "Smoke and Mirrors." _NCIS_ premiered in Sept, 2003, "Smoke and Mirrors" aired in Jan 2003. Kinsey didn't go from coma to 'ready for a press conference' overnight so in my SG world, it was about 10 days from the day Kinsey was shot until the press conference. Jack went from the brig in Colorado, to the jail in Washington, D.C. and then he was released. Not sure how much time elapsed between Jack's release and the press conference, and I didn't really put that into this story, but I'm thinking about writing a crossover story with my take on it.

About Tony: Not sure which is right. If Tony was 8 when his Mother died, how did she dress him in a sailor suit until he was 10? I split the difference and used 9 for his age when she died. (After watching _NCIS_ reruns, I don't think Tony's Mom dressed him in a sailor suit until he was 10. He was saying that to get to the suspect.)

Stargate history: Stargate character Major Mansfield was killed on the Tok'ra planet Revanna during the season 5 episode "Summit." Stargate character Charles Kawalsky died in the season 1 episode "The Enemy Within" and Stargate character Frank Cromwell died in the season 2 episode "A Matter of Time."

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Thank you for reading. Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

This chapter is all new, written in response to readers' requests for a live and in-person Jack, not just mention of him. I hope you like what I added.

Review: Jethro has seen Jack at the Kinsey press conference. This chapter is about what happens the next day.

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On the drive home the next day, Jethro's thoughts were all over the place. It had been a strange couple of days with the media pundits and people at NCIS gossiping about Kinsey and Jack, Director Morrow still pushing him to choose at least one more probie, two unwelcome phone calls from his second ex-wife, Ducky had been on one of his tangents, Abby had been in court and Tony had been in class. This time it was sensitivity training, or actually a second repeat of the class since he'd failed miserably the first two times. Gibbs had never heard of anyone failing, until Tony, that is, and he had decided that it was because the man openly, deliberately and wantonly treated women differently than men, both in the office and in the field. The instructor had been a woman the first time and a man taught the second and both had refused to sign off for DiNozzo, telling the human resources manager that he'd have to take the class again, and again if necessary. Gibbs had let it go, knowing that Tony would have to figure it out for himself and he would only get involved if the agent failed a third time.

He'd just turned onto the main side street in his neighborhood when the phone rang and he winced before pulling it out. Hoping he didn't need to go back to the Navy Yard or to a crime scene, Gibbs glared at the display and grumbled, "Aw hell," before answering, just knowing it was the FBI or CIA or somebody calling from a restricted line in a different agency.

"Yeah, GIBBS," he barked as a green Jeep sped around him.

"Hey Jethro, it's Jack O'Neill. You hungry?"

Gibbs smiled because it wasn't the FBI or CIA calling. It was Jack, which both surprised and pleased him. The man sounded good, and yes, he was hungry. He'd thought about stopping to get something, but then he had decided to warm up leftover chili when he got home.

"Starving," he admitted honestly. "What do you have in mind?"

"You're almost home so I'll come to you," Jack stated good naturedly.

What? How did Jack know that he was almost home? It wasn't a rookie mistake; nobody had been following him. Maybe Jack was pulling his leg.

Jack filled in the blanks before Gibbs responded. "Jethro. It's been 22 minutes since you left the Navy Yard. I know that because I just missed you there."

Gibbs chuckled, "Okay." He heard Jack sigh through the phone and he grinned, knowing that his friend was getting a kick out of tailing him.

"I was four cars back when you turned off. There are no food places between that corner and your house."

Jack didn't say anything else for a few seconds while Gibbs was busy thinking and glancing in his rear view mirror. How had he not noticed the vehicle with him the entire way? And where was Jack now? Damn, he'd been preoccupied or he was slipping, but that didn't explain where the mystery car was now.

Jack announced enthusiastically, "See you in a few. I'm bringing food."

Jethro wouldn't expect him to talk. He would ask questions, but he wouldn't push or try to force responses. And the man was an excellent listener, knowing when to stay quiet and just be a friend. The arrest and incarceration had been brutal, and after his release he had looked forward to getting home and resuming missions throught the stargate. Unfortunately, Kinsey, the Joint Chiefs and even the President had had other ideas and Jack had returned to D.C. so the public and the press could see him and Kinsey together. And as long as he was in the District, Hammond had arranged for him to attend some other meetings. Jack was tired and as long as he couldn't get out of D.C. until later the second night, he wanted good company, his kind of company.

* * *

Gibbs dipped his chicken strip in the honey mustard sauce and then took a generous bite. It was tender and juicy with just the right amount of crunch and he chewed eagerly. His stomach was feeling pretty comfortable, but everything was so good that he wasn't ready to stop eating. He dipped the last of the chicken strip in buffalo sauce and popped it into is mouth. He loved Chick-Fil-A. Smiling, he watched his friend snag the last whole waffle fry and dip it into ketchup before munching on it. He didn't mind that Jack had taken it because he had eaten plenty already, and there were still a few pieces and crumbs left. The man had brought a feast from the Chick-Fil-A and feast was not an understatement: Double order of Chicken-n-Strips, big box of chicken nuggets, double order of waffle potato fries, double large carrot and raisin salad, large coleslaw and a whole lemon pie. Jack had announced that it was cheaper to buy the whole pie than four slices, and it would stay good frozen for a while.

Sipping his beer, Gibbs leaned back into his chair and looked at his friend, who was taking a bite of pie. He appeared tired and a little pale, and the slightly yellow-greenish shadows on his jaw, neck and hands were easily noticeable as he twirled his fork in the yellow filling like a kid. Jack was an imposing figure which made Gibbs wonder about his injuries, so he stated casually, "Those are some impressive bruises," and he saw Jack's jaw clench, his shoulders tighten, and if the fork in his hand had been plastic, it would have snapped into pieces.

Knowing he'd hit a nerve, or two or three, and suddenly regretting it, Gibbs spoke quickly to reassure his friend. "Don't worry. They aren't that noticeable."

It was a fib, but he was feeling bad that he'd mentioned the bruises, which had to be a few days old since they were no longer blue, black or purple. Jack put down his fork, shifted his backside around in the chair and looked right at Jethro like he knew what he was going to ask. Jack wasn't stupid. In fact he was far from it and he probably did know, so Gibbs went ahead and asked, "Who?" The question was generic, sort of, but Gibbs knew it had to have been military or civilian police, FBI, other prisoners, jail guards or the secret organization that hadn't let him visit Jack in the D.C. jail.

Dropping his gaze, Jack half sighed and tugged his shirt collar up around the front of his neck. When he was satisfied with that he pulled the cuffs of his shirt sleeves down to cover his wrists a little more and it was then that Gibbs noticed he wasn't wearing a watch. Jack had always worn a watch. The silence between them stretched for a bit and Gibbs waited. There wasn't any rush. He put a fork full of carrot salad into his mouth and chewed, relishing the crunch and sweetness while Jack sat, silent, but not still. One of his feet lightly tapped the table leg a few times, then stopped before starting again. Jack had been under a lot of stress and it was showing, and when he still hadn't replied or gone back to eating his dinner after what seemed like a couple of minutes, Gibbs changed the subject. Sort of.

"I would have put money on you being on the first plane out after that press conference." He had been surprised when Jack had called him and even more surprised to learn that he was still in the area.

Jack's shoulders relaxed and he murmured, "Yeah," as he closed his eyes for several seconds. Gibbs recognized the technique and waited for him to push back the memories. Finally, he saw Jack's lids open and his gaze lifted to reveal eyes so dark that they were almost black instead of brown.

Barely above a whisper, Jacl said, "I know you tried to see me... at the.. ," but he couldn't get out the word jail.

Locked up for days, accused of a crime he hadn't committed, beaten up, and who knew what else? Gibbs couldn't blame him and he dipped his head once in acknowledgment before taking a bite of his own piece of lemon pie. It was still half frozen, smooth and delicious. Licking the fork, he waited. Jack wasn't finished, but he also wasn't one to spew, and there wasn't any hurry. Gibbs knew why Jack had come to see him. They were different, but so alike.

"I wasn't allowed visitors," Jack admitted, then added, "Not anyone I wanted to see anyway."

Gibbs had known that Jack had been kept in segregation, but he had been held by civilian authority, not military, so why after arraignment would they have restricted his visitors? And under whose authority?

"How'd they do that?" And then realizing he was going to repeat a question that Jack hadn't answered, Gibbs asked anyway. It was the same, yet different. "Who did that?" He knew Jack either didn't know or did know and wouldn't tell him, but he asked anyway.

Sometimes the truth, or something close to the truth was the easiest way to answer a question and still keep a secret... secret. Jack looked like he had a bad taste in his mouth when he replied, "An organization that answers to the Senate Oversight Committee," and Gibbs knew that the look wasn't from the lemon pie or anything else he'd eaten.

Jethro stared at him, at his features and in his eyes, trying to decide if it was the truth, and he decided that it was, but Jack hadn't answered the how. Or Gibbs decided, maybe he had. Robert Kinsey had been Chairman of the Senate Appropriations Committee and when he was 'dead' it made sense that his fellow senators would flex their muscles. And they had a long reach, probably into secret organizations and they probably had ties to other groups, powerful groups that most people had never heard about. And he hadn't yet considered political corruption. He wasn't going to get anymore information from his friend, at least not right then so Gibbs had to decide, and it took himhalf a second to accept Jack's answer.

With dishes washed and leftovers, and there weren't a lot of them, in the refrigerator upstairs, Gibbs and his guest were downstairs in the basement with comfortably full stomachs. So comfortably full that they didn't want beer or anything else. They had perched themselves on stools in the stillness of the dungeon, staring at the unfinished wooden boat displayed under the soft lighting.

Jack asked in an approving way, "What are you going to call this one?"

"Don't know yet." Gibbs discreetly studied his friend, glad to see that he had relaxed. It was time to get him talking a bit more. Not a lot more, but it wouldn't hurt for him to open up a little. Gibbs knew that Jack probably couldn't tell him much about what had actually happened in the Kinsey shooting, but he could get him talking about other things.

"What have you been doing since that thing yesterday?" Even Gibbs couldn't say press conference or bring up Kinsey's name. The man appeared to be smarmy and if Jack didn't like him or trust him, then that was good enough for him.

Fiddling with the sand paper on the block in his hand, Jack took a while to respond. He silently composed the litany in his head and started with, "Pentagon."  
He brushed the rough surface against the palm of his hand several times and said, "White House."  
He set down the sanding block and picked up a chisel, saying, "Gym."  
He turned the chisel over and over and then end to end, looking at it closely and admitted, "Slept."  
The chisel went down on the bench as he looked for something else, and grumbled, "Pentagon."  
Selecting a plane, he examined the 25 degree angle and carefully readjusted the cutting depth, before quipping, "Smithsonian."  
Gibbs tossed a big scrap piece of wood over to Jack, who placed it onto the bench with the plane on top of it. He glanced at Jethro and joked, "More Smithsonian," before muttering, "It's a big place."  
Then he pushed the tool across the wood block a dozen times, mesmerized by the curled wood shavings and declared, "Firing range."  
Turning over the block, he did the same to the opposite side. Then breaking up the ribbons of wood with his fingers, Jack beamed, "Followed you."

They spent the next hour working on the boat, engaging in very little small talk, and soon it was time for Jack to leave. He said he had to return the staff car and catch a flight, and on the way up the stairs from the basement, which took much longer than going down, Gibbs teased, "Your knees are making a lot of 'not so good' grinding noises, Jack."

Chuckling, Jack quipped back, "Between your bad knee, Jethro, and both of mine, I think it was stereo."

Gibbs cracked up laughing, pleased that his friend seemed much more relaxed than when he had arrived.

"Hey wait, you need a snack for the plane. You should take some of those leftovers."

"Naw, you keep 'em. I'll be fine and home before you know it."

* * *

When Gibbs laid down to sleep that night he thought about Jack and wondered if his flight had left on time. The plane would still be in the air with arrival scheduled at about 1:30AM in Colorado. Before drifting off to sleep, Jethro whispered "I miss you guys" for Shannon and Kelly, and "Take care of yourself" for Jack. The two men didn't talk often and saw each other even less, but their friendship was solid.

Above Colorado Springs, Jack was waiting for Thor to set the coordinates. It took only a few seconds and he barely had time to utter, "Tha..." before he was deposited into his living room. Thor appeared a few seconds later, his hologram shimmering.

"You spoke, O'Neill?"

Jack grinned. "I did." Gazing at his Asgard friend, knowing that the little alien wouldn't be so patient much longer, he repeated, "Thanks for the ride."

"You are welcome, O'Neill." And then the little guy's hologram winked out.

An hour later, before drifting off to sleep, Jack whispered, "I miss you, Sport," for Charlie, "I owe you, Buddy," for Thor and "Take care of yourself" for Jethro.

END

* * *

Okay, that's it. I hope this turned out alright for those of you who wanted Jack. Thanks very much for reading and please review.


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